


I Got 99 Problems but a Witch Ain't One

by SomeFrenchWhore



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Witches, E is important though, Eventual Romance? Idk? maybe?, F/F, F/M, Familiars, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Magic, Past Relationship(s), Shapeshifting, Trans Character, agender Poland, but this isn't Poland's story tbh, so don't get too worked up about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4278927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeFrenchWhore/pseuds/SomeFrenchWhore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or rather, it wasn't until now. As if Gabija Laurinataité didn't have enough problems, a certain blonde witch is about to invade her life and make it infinitely more interesting, to put it nicely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Got 99 Problems but a Witch Ain't One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first upload of many, because I have like 13 fics started, but I'm not sure all of them are worth finishing, so I'm going to let you decide. A few quick notes 'cause you didn't click this to read my life story: in this, male and female America are the same person, because witches can shapeshift, so don't get confused. Gabija is my name for fem!Lithuania. Amy is my name for 2P!fem!America, but she's a very minor character, not even human. Ivan isn't in the first chapter except as a name mention, but will probably be in later chapters. Lastly, witches are a very vague term in this. Enjoy!

Gabija worked quietly in her kitchen, an old habit that stuck around after she’d already been independent for such a long time. Even if she wouldn’t get yelled at or worse for making too much noise, she usually found herself doing things quietly. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, anyway; she enjoyed a bit of peace and quiet every now and then, as her best friend never seemed to realize. Feliks was many things, but calm never was included in that list.

Just then, she heard a crash from down the hall, and jumped. Speak of the devil-- did that basket case break in again?!

On her way down to investigate, she announced, “Feliks, this is so not funny. I swear if you broke something-” Before she could finish her threat, several things happened in the span of a few seconds. A man-- much bigger than Feliks-- stumbled out of her hall closet, which in retrospect made no sense since she couldn’t even fit in there, he appeared to lunge at her, she reacted, and he ended up flipped onto the floor. “Who are you!?” She demanded shrilly, standing over him with her fists balled like she might just continue what she’d started.

He had the nerve to laugh. It started slowly, like he was trying not to, and then built like he couldn’t seem to stop. As irritated as the brunette was, she had to admit that it was an adorable sound, his laugh. It tumbled out of him like a brook, pure and yet uneven-- she got the feeling he wasn’t laughing at her. “Oh, man-” he finally spoke. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. That was awesome. I really did not expect anything like that. Listen, miss Gabi, I know I shouldn’t be in your home, but please calm down, I’m not a robber.”

Her light green, nearly amber eyes widened in alarm. His use of her name did nothing to ease her nerves, given that she was sure they’d never met before. “How- how do I know you’re not? And how do you know my name?”

Slowly, as if to make sure he didn’t offend her by moving, he sat up and got to his feet. “I- shit, that’s uh. Hard to explain. Would you believe me if I said I was magical?”

This time, her eyes narrowed, matching her pursed lips as she looked him over. Was this some kind of practical joke? He certainly didn’t look magical. He looked vaguely homeless. He wore a pixie hat, the knitted kind that was pointy on the top with tassels on the bottom, horn-rimmed glasses like an old man, a tacky I Heart N.Y. t-shirt, cargo shorts with an excessive number of pockets, a brown leather bomber jacket that looked so old it might’ve actually been from the fifties, and dirty converse sneakers. “No.” She answered flatly, hands still tensed into fists in case she needed to literally knock some sense into him.

“Eh, didn’t think so. People usually don’t. Okay, how ‘bout this!” He stepped past her casually, walked back into the closet, and shut the door behind him. 

At that moment, she realized how impossible it was for him to have fallen out of it in the first place; there were only a good three inches between the door and the shelves in there, and he was far from being that thin. “What-” Gabija tore the door open, thinking maybe it was a trick and he’d somehow removed the shelves, but only found an empty closet. Her jaw dropped.

“Man, you’re cute when you’re surprised.” He spoke up from right next to her, and she jumped and shoved him backwards, away from her.

“How? How did you do that!?”

“I told you, I’m magical. Now, it’s kinda complicated, but I can’t show you again, I’m a little low at the moment. You believe me though, right?”

She didn’t know what to think. Her mouth moved as if to start several different words, making no sound, then she finally settled on “Out. Get out. I don’t want you here, I don’t need any wishes, I don’t want to be involved.” She started walking towards him, to usher him towards the front door.

He backed away obligingly, but his expression immediately fell from its previous bold grin to that of a kicked puppy. “But- but I need your help. I’m here for a reason- you don’t wanna hear what the reason is? If you kick me out I could die. I need your permission to stay here, anyway. See this?” He pulled up his sleeve to show her his arm, which sported a few pages' worth of strange runes and symbols.

“Why are your tattoos supposed to change my mind? I can’t read those.”

“No, not the tattoos. Look at my skin.”

She gasped and stopped in her tracks. He was flickering, like a faulty hologram from a movie. She could see the carpet through his arm every few seconds.

“Look, I know it’s freaking you out, but I need your permission to stay, ‘cause this is really uncomfortable.”

“What are you?”

“A witch-- and this really sucks, please say I can stay, if I go outside I’ll dissolve-”

It suddenly occurred to the brunette that it was raining. She put two and two together and laughed sarcastically. “Ha ha. ‘Cause water melts witches. You’re hilarious. Aren’t witches female, anyway?”

The stranger groaned and the flickering got worse for a moment. He looked like an animation error, as his lines blurred with the things around and behind him, and then suddenly, he re-solidified, and his features were different, prettier. His eyes were the same vibrantly blue color, but slightly bigger; his nose was smaller; his chin and jawline were less square, more feminine; and when Gabija looked down, she realized he was now sporting a pair of sizable boobs under that t-shirt. “Ta-dah, now I’m a lady by your standards. Say I can stay, please,” he whined in a new voice, much higher but with the same slightly gritty quality his other voice had.

He also sounded genuinely pained, and although she had a feeling this was a terrible idea that she’d regret, Gabija blurted it out. “Fine, you can stay here. For now.”

The stranger moaned and fell to his knees in front of her. “Oh, yes. Thank you. Oh man that sucked. I hate witch laws.”

“What do you mean witch laws?”

“Well like, y’know how vampires get to live forever, but they can’t go out in the sun or deal with garlic?”

“Yeah?” She tilted her head, gradually making the connection.

“Witches can do a lot of things, but they can’t be in a place they weren’t invited into.” The witch sighed and stood up, appearing fairly tired out by his transformation.

“Then how did you get in here?” Something didn’t line up.

“By accident. Like, sometimes when science experiments go wrong, rules get broken. The same with teleportation spells. It sucks when they do though. Speaking of things going wrong, is something burning?”

Once again, Gabija gasped, and pushed past him to run to the kitchen. Halfway there, she paused to glare over her shoulder at him and warn, “Don’t touch anything or I’ll-- I’ll banish you again.” before continuing around the corner to salvage her dinner. The witch only followed with a small smile, like her threats were endearing.

“So, are you usually a good cook when not distracted by fascinating magical intruders, or?” He had the nerve to wonder aloud, watching her lift the non-burnt part of a steak out of a pan.

She shot him a dirty look. “Yes. And don’t flatter yourself, I was distracted because I might’ve had to beat the hell out of you, not because I was so fascinated.”

“I like you, Gabi.” He grinned and leaned in the kitchen door, crossing his arms under his chest. 

She noticed how well-endowed the witch was when she glanced over to tell him not to call her that, and promptly returned her eyes to the task in front of her, deciding not to bother. “Are you gonna stay like that, or?”

“Yeah. Why? Wouldn’t you prefer a lady witch? You just said so.”

“Well, yeah, because I thought there was no other option. If you’re more comfortable the other way, just-” 

“I’m comfortable either way. Witches don’t really concern themselves with physical attributes as much as most people do, ‘cause most of us are shapeshifters anyway. Not to mention I’m officially outta magic for the moment.” He sighed.

“What do you mean out of magic? You can run out?” 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m still here instead of just flying back home, duh. Do you happen to have something extra I can snack on, since we’re in the kitchen anyway?”

Gabija pouted. She wasn’t exactly rolling in the dough in her current profession, and definitely hadn’t planned on feeding someone his size. The brunette wasn’t short by any means, but he still had a couple inches on her in height, and several in width. Even the witch’s female form had shoulders like a linebacker. “Witches even eat food like normal people?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes. Seriously, the differences aren’t as dramatic as you think, I’m still organic. Even if I was a plant I’d have to get some water and sunshine to keep going.”

“You can turn into a plant?”

“Yeah. I’d show you, but like I said, kinda low on juice. Can we talk over dinner?”

How rude. Not only did he invade her house, but he was demanding food from her. “Fine.” Still, she wasn’t about to make him watch her eat when he was hungry. A few minutes later, they were situated at her table, and Gabija belatedly realized something important. “Hey, I never got your name. What is it?”

“Ehh, what do you wanna call me?” He evaded the question and shoveled food into his mouth to avoid having to speak for a minute.

“I want to call you by your name.” Her eyebrows knit together in slight suspicion and confusion. Most of her questions were answered so easily, but this one got answered like he was a politician.

“I have a lot of names, is all. Uh, you can call me like, Alfred though, if you want.”

She almost pointed out that that name was usually a boy’s name, but then, he’d already made it clear witches gave no stock to human conceptions of gender. “Okay. Nice to meet you officially, Alfred. You never answered my question earlier, either- how’d you know my name is Gabija? What else do you know about me from your magical… intuition?” She wasn't quite sure what words to use with him; there simply weren't words in an average person’s vernacular for such things.

“You really wanna know? Witches know a lot of sketchy stuff.” He somehow smiled up at her despite being notably taller, and Gabija started to doubt whether she actually wanted to know.  
So, she answered quickly before she could lose her nerve. “Yes.”

Alfred put down his fork, which he might as well since he was almost finished already, and folded his hands together to stare across the table at his hostess for a few seconds. She chewed slowly, staring back at him with wide eyes. He made her nervous with his piercingly blue stare, understandably, and with anyone else he’d probably draw out this part longer than actually necessary, but given that she’d been so nice, he decided to skip the awkward staring contest he usually subjected people to. “Well, your name is Gabija Laurinataité, you have a brother-- I think-- and a boyfr… Best friend? Friends with benefits? Close person of some sort named Feliks. You’re twenty-three and work as… eh, I dunno, but you hate your job. You've got a lot of scars on your back, and I don’t know why but I feel like they’re a delicate topic. You’re not a virgin, and are currently wondering whether you’re into me or what. The answer is yes, you gay as hell.”

Gabija was thankful she’d stopped eating for a moment, because she surely would've choked at his assessment of her. “I- excuse you? What?”

Alfred grinned and took a sip of his drink. “I didn't stutter.”

“But I wasn't thinking that. Your mind reading is clearly off, and heavily biased.” She all but spat the last bit, irritated that he’d assume something like that.

“Alright, fine, half of that was made up. I just know about Feliks ‘cause you came down the hall yelling about him, and could guess you aren't a virgin ‘cause of your energy. Energy as in, aura type thing. It’s not innocent. You've either done the do, or you might have killed a man. I honestly can't tell.”

Her cheeks warmed and her eyes widened and flashed like she might just kill him next. “I have not. And if I had it’d be inappropriate for you to say so. If-”

He interrupted, disentangling his hands to gesture at her casually. “Hey, don’t get mad at me, you asked what I know.”

She huffed and grumbled, “Fine. But don’t say things like that from now on. And I’m not wondering if I’m into you. You’re rude.”

“I’m sorry. It was a joke, alright? I don’t mean to be disrespectful after you've been so kind and let me stay here and fed me and everything. You’re really sweet and generous and beautiful and maybe I was projecting a little.”

Gabija stared down at her half-empty plate instead of looking up at him. That was unexpectedly honest, and flattering even if she still wasn't sure whether she trusted him at all. “It’s okay.” she mumbled, and resumed eating before anything more awkward came up. So much for a quiet night in.

When he was done, he stood up from the table and brought his plate into the kitchen, figuring he shouldn't make her clean up after him in addition to everything else. “Hey, Gabi, could I ask a weird favor when you’re done?”

Because he’d eaten so quickly, she still had almost half her food left, but she still nodded slowly as she chewed, raising an eyebrow to ask ‘what?’ without words.

“I can’t go outside right now, as I mentioned, but I really need you to step out and get my familiar out of the rain soon.”

“What?”

“My familiar. Haven’t you heard of something like that? Witches have pets? Usually represented in movies or whatever as like, an owl or a cat?”

“Oh. Okay. Just a minute.” She finished quickly, since she hated keeping people waiting, and stacked her plate on his before realizing she had no idea what she’d just agreed to. “Wait, is it gonna like- come to me? How does this work? And it better not-”

“Hold up, first things first, stop with the ‘it’. A familiar is a spirit, in this case a lady one, so you can use ‘she’. She’s not gonna make a mess, if that’s what you were about to say. Familiars aren’t like most animals, duh. And yeah, she’ll come to you just fine, ‘cause she’ll smell me on you. Just walk out and put your arm out, you’ll know when you see her.”

“My arm? Why my arm? Is she a bird?”

“An eagle. And her talons won’t hurt you, so don’t worry about letting her land.”

This entire situation seemed fishy. Something about going outside her house, leaving a witch in it alone in the process, in order to fetch his pet, which he’d just said had talons, didn't sit right with her.  
Alfred sensed her hesitation and reassured her, “I wouldn't lie to you, Gabi. I couldn't. Witches can’t lie to hostesses who have shown them hospitality.” It was a lie in itself, but making up witch laws wouldn't hurt anyone. This way, she’d think he was bound by something more official than his conscience not to lie to her.

Her pout was back, but he sounded entirely sincere, so she sighed and slipped on a set of sandals before stepping outside. Her front door was easily visible to the neighbors, so she went out the back door and stood in her backyard with her left arm out, feeling distinctly ridiculous. Alfred might’ve been inside laughing his magical ass off at how gullible she was. When the thought occurred to her, she looked over her shoulder through the French door at him, and was relieved to see the witch only staring out at the sky anxiously. Incidentally, looking behind her at her house meant that she missed the eagle approaching her, so she jumped when the large bird alighted on her arm.

“What you waiting for? It’s wet. Get the hell inside.” The eagle chastised her, and, trying to ignore that she’d just been ordered to do so by a talking bird, Gabija turned and quickly walked back inside.

“You didn't think to mention that she talks??” She addressed Alfred with a bewildered expression, relaxing just slightly when the bird left her arm to land on her master’s shoulder.

“Didn't think I’d have to. Magical animals always talk in movies, don’t they?”

His logic was ridiculous and childish, but she couldn't exactly argue with it.

“You watch more TV than any witch I've ever met.” The eagle put in her two cents and rolled her beady eyes.

“You haven’t even met that many witches besides my sister and the asshole from earlier.” Alfred argued, although he smiled as he brought a hand up to brush the water away from her feathers.

“Fair enough. Who’s this?” She nodded at Gabija with her beak, shoulders slightly raised like she didn't trust the human who’d just carried her inside.

“This is Gabija, and she’s a friend. She’s letting us stay. Gabija, this is Amy, and she’s evil.”

Amy bit his ear. “Bitch. You chose your own familiar. ‘S your fault.”

“Ow! Go sleep somewhere, fartfeathers.”

Amy rolled her eyes for the second time, something Gabija didn't even know eagles could do once, and turned back to the human to say, “Nice to meet you, Gabija.” in the manner of a bratty teenager being ordered to say hi to a relative they disliked. Once the obligatory formalities were over with, she fluttered over to settle on the back of one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“Uh, you too, Amy.” This was all so surreal. The brunette wondered when she’d wake up. In the meantime, there were still chores to do, so she decided to simply clean the kitchen, because the counters were very real and solid, and at least the action would take her mind off of everything that’d just happened.

Alfred casually lingered in the kitchen, picking up his glass from before to eat the ice in it. “How you holdin’ up?” He asked around an ice cube, lines of genuine concern appearing on his forehead.

“Um. What do you mean?”

“Well, I kinda just interrupted your night, rocked your perception of the world, and introduced you to a talking eagle. Most people would be freaking out a little.”

She was. “I’m not most people.” She didn't want to admit how freaked out she was to him. Instead, she scrubbed diligently at a pan she’d used to cook her dinner.

Alfred could smell a lie, but he decided not to prod any further on the topic. Maybe she just needed a minute. Instead, he watched her clean, and tried a little harder to read her like he had a few minutes ago at the table. “You’re right, you’re not most people.” he murmured. “You’re uncommonly strong.” Gabija didn't answer; he wasn't wrong, but she wasn't entirely sure such a statement warranted a ‘thank you’. “Who’s Ivan?”

The question blindsided her, and she finally realized he wasn't kidding when he said witches know a lot of things they shouldn't. Coincidentally, she picked up a knife from the sink, a large one she’d used to cut a head of cabbage to ribbons, and started to wash it very carefully. “An ex.” She answered curtly, praying the witch would get the unsaid message that she did not want to discuss Ivan with him-- or anyone else, for that matter.

If auras were represented in colors, hers would have just turned to ink. Alfred resisted the urge to shudder at the amount of bitterness rolling off of her, and realized those scars were probably Ivan’s fault somehow. That would be why his name popped into his head while Gabija’s back was turned. “Okay.” He answered simply, and set his empty glass on the counter next to her. “Can I go chill in the living room?”

“Mhmm.” She hummed in affirmation, and he smiled and patted her shoulder before leaving the room. She wouldn't realize it, but the small touch was infused with a shot of positive energy, to counteract the mood that mentioning Ivan’s name had just put her in. When he left, Amy followed, perching instead on the back of the sofa. 

“You’re an idiot.” She muttered, too low for the human in the kitchen to hear.

“Oh yeah? Why’m I an idiot this time?” Alfred chuckled, but his familiar was not amused.

“You’re never supposed to reach zero, and just when you finally regained a tiny bit of your magic back, you waste it on her mood, of all things.”

“But it was my fault.”

“No, it’s her ex’s fault he fucked her up or whatever. Quit wasting magic on shit you don’t need to be doing.” She shifted on the back of the couch, feathers ruffled in a show of obvious annoyance and disapproval. “The longer you take to recharge, the longer we’ll be trapped here.”

“Would that be such a bad thing? She’s sweet and we’re safe here.”

“Sure we are. She’s not.”


End file.
